What's One Man's Nightmare Is Another Man's Dream

-=- The setting is the America’s Stonehedge monument in Salem, New Hampshire. Hidden behind a large museum-type lodge, a few hundred feet in the woods, is a clustering of stone structures thousands of years old. Some resemble huts, some look like they were carved out of the earth itself, but all are mysterious. When standing here in the broad daylight, one gets a feeling of being watched. A feeling like no matter how isolated you are, you’re never alone. It’s described as one of the most terrifying places on earth, especially when night falls over the Northeast. Right now it’s late dusk; the sun is gone from the sky and the light it provides is fading just as fast. In the middle of the compound of huts, bunkers, and benches is the most disturbing stone secret the Native Americans left behind: The sacrificial altar. And perched on this altar is EWA superstar Nomad. He’s wearing a long-sleeve black shirt with mesh sleeves, black jeans, and black paratrooper-issue stomping boots. His mid-length blonde hair is hanging down in his face. Around him, carved into the stone, is a blood groove running the perimeter of the altar, stained slightly rust from years of use -=-

Look around. Listen closely. What do you see? What do you hear? Nothing. You can’t see anything in the dark, and you can’t hear anything when there isn’t any noise. Yet here, in these ruins, you’ll swear you see Indians walking through the trees. You’ll hear distant tribal drums. But it’s all in your imagination....isn’t it? Don’t be so sure. On this altar, countless people were sacrificed. And standing here, now, I can hear their final thoughts in my head. Their last words in my ears. I wish you could be here now. I wish you could know the fear of this poor cameraman I dragged out here, deep into my nightmare. Here....

-=- Nomad reaches down and lays his hand flat against the sacrificial altar -=-

It’s still warm. I can feel their hot blood gushing from their bodies and trickling across this stone.

-=- Nomad pulls his hand up, and slides his tongue up one of his fingers -=-

I can taste it. I can smell it. That’s all five senses. All five of my senses are telling me that what transpired thousands of years ago is still occuring right this second. I can see them out of the corner of my eye, hear them in the distance....can’t I? Or is it just my own mind playing tricks on me? It’s a powerful thing, really. It drives men insane, it brings the bravest of the brave to their knees. It can start wars. It can end them. And do you know what I’m talking about? Four letters. One syllable.

-=- Nomad takes a deep breath through his nose, then slowly exhales it -=-

FEAR. It’s one of the most powerful aspects of the human mind. And it is my play thing. I use it like painters use acrylics and oils. Only my canvas is the mind of the poor soul unlucky enough to face me. I play them like a good poker hand. No one is more feared in this business, and no one can hurt you as bad as I can. I don’t just break your body, like so many one-dimensional musclemen do these days. I break your fucking brain. I leave men a fraction of what they were when they stepped through the ropes.

-=- By now the light of day is gone, and we can barely see Nomad by the moon’s soft glow -=-

Look where I’m standing. I don’t run from terror. I don’t cower in the face of horror. I don’t cringe away from fear. I open my arms and I embrace it. I KNOW fear. We have developed an intimate relationship. I LOVE fear. And I use it. Nomad is synonymous with two things: Fear, and the EWA International Title. And Cody Covington....you may have my International Title. But soon, you will know my fear as well. So go to bed tonight, and turn out the light. But don’t worry about the closet, don’t check under the bed, because that’s not where the monsters are hiding. The only monster you need to concern yourself with is right here. And I may not have big, pointy teeth, and I may not have tentacles, but I AM inside your mind, Cody. And I AM waiting for you at your Journey’s End.

-=- Nomad stares at the camera for a second and, content that the interview is over, the cameraman turns and runs like hell back to his van. Nomad remains, alone, in the middle of the sacrificial altar -=-